The Alliance
by la plus heureuse
Summary: What do you do when a law forces you to wed your worst enemy? Form an alliance and overthrow the law, of course. Dramione, Marriage Law AU, WIP.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: The News

Hermione always met up with her friends for dinner on Wednesday nights. Other nights happened, but Wednesday night was sacred in their schedule. Missing a Wednesday night dinner was borderline unthinkable, allowable only in the most extreme of circumstances.

On this particular Wednesday it was just before six and Magical Law was half empty. Hermione was a good fit for Magical Law. Her work ethic was admired, but not out of the ordinary. Her coworkers were just as ambitious as she was. And her boss noticed when she worked hard, and encouraged her to take the time she earned off. She was a researcher, which was a fairly new position. It was her job to work on laws that were being introduced. She looked into the precedent, noted on the morals of the law, and made sure that they were airtight. Her recommendations were usually heeded. She was good at her job. She liked it. She saw her future in the department clearly. Researcher, head of research, undersecretary, head of the department, and then. The Ministry was ripe for her taking in fifteen to twenty years.

She headed out the atrium to the floo, where she saw people gathered in clusters, looking at a paper. Multiple clusters. No one she knew, but the configuration was confusing. They were all frowning, whispering, shaking their heads. Hermione felt a sort of prickling all over her body, like she used to during the war.

She stepped into the floo, and reappeared in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

_The Evening Prophet_ was sitting on Harry's kitchen table. Ron was scowling and Harry was reading with deep furrows between his brow.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked. She could hear her heart starting to pound in her head.

"You're not going to like it," Harry said, looking up, and tossed the paper at her. She fumbled for the catch, then turned it to read the headline.

_Ministry Passes Marriage Law in Secret_

Apparently they didn't utilize researchers for all the laws.

Hermione quickly scanned the article. Low population, fears for magical future, assigned partnerships. She was shocked that people in the atrium hadn't started rioting right away.

"This completely violates people's lives," Hermione gasped. "A law just can't force people to get married."

Ron shook his head. "Mum had stories about these laws. They've happened before. The last one was passed in the 40s. Apparently after wars the government always needs marriages."

"I cannot believe that you are defending this sham-"

"Hermione," Ron snapped. "I'm bloody well not, which you would know if you'd just listen."

In all fairness he was not, but Hermione opened her mouth to argue anyway. She was raring for a clash.

"Enough," said Harry, rubbing his eyes. "We all know it's terrible. So what are we going to do about it?"

Hermione turned to stare at Harry. Surely he wasn't joking.

"Well, we've got to fight it," Hermione said after a long pause. Ron nodded across the table. Harry dropped his head to the dining room table, and shook it like a dog did when it was confused.

"Wouldn't it be nice," he murmured, "if for once we didn't have to be the ones to save the world?"

"Head off the table, Master Harry," Kreacher sang out as he burst through the door, levitating a large steak and kidney pie in front of him.

"Thank you Kreacher," Harry said, sitting up. Even after all these years Harry still answered to him in matters of the domestic. "This looks wonderful."

"Treacle tart, too, Master Harry, if you finish your dinner."

Kreacher left after they had dished up their food. Ron whistled.

"How often does Kreacher make your favorites, mate?"

Harry shrugged. "At least once a week. Usually after Quidditch. He says I've worked up an appetite enough for it then."

The floo fired to life again, and Ginny stepped through. She had her long hair tied back in a braid, and was dressed in black muggle workout clothes. She saw the dinner before them and wrinkled her nose. "Steak and kidney pie again?"

"Kreacher says that I need to regain my strength after training," Harry teased, and took a bite.

"Yes," Ginny said, sitting next to her fiance and giving him a shove. "You're the one who needs to regain your strength, after your once-weekly intramural Quidditch league." She began dishing up her own dinner.

"Why is everyone so quiet tonight?" Ginny asked after she had taken a few bites.

"You didn't see the news, did you?" Hermione said. Ginny slowly shook her head no. Hermione pushed _The Evening Prophet _across the table towards her_._

"They just announced it," Ron said. "Evidently trying to keep it as quiet as possible.

Ginny's fork clattered on the plate as she began scanning the headline.

"Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt announced this evening that he will support the decision made by Wizegmont in regards to the Wizarding Repopulation and Blood Division Act," Ginny read slowly out loud. "The Minister's announcement was met with some surprise across political lines, all but ensuring the act's successful passage… I've never heard of this Act before. Had any of you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I never saw it. This bill was written and debated in secret, and they're only announcing it now that they are sure it will pass."

"So we have six months to marry someone of the opposite blood status or the Ministry will select a marriage for us," Ginny said, then passed the paper back to Hermione. She looked over at Harry and attempted a smile.

"Do you want to floo the reception hall, or should I? I can't imagine they'll be all that eager to return our deposit now that no one will be getting married next year."

"We could keep it and have a proper ceremony next year, and just do the legal thing now," Harry said.

Ginny tapped her chin. "It would be nice to keep the planning period open." Hermione cleared her throat.

"And also, this is a terrible law," Ginny added. Ron rolled his eyes across the table.

"Smooth, Gin," he said, and served himself to another helping of pie.

"What about you two?" Ginny asked, shooting Ron a glare.

"What about us?" Hermione said, feeling even more unsteady. She had a pit in her stomach, and she was very afraid of what Ginny might ask her.

"Do you have any idea of who you will try to partner with? Assuming the law passes." Ginny did not say it, but her glance slid between Ron and Hermione.

"No one, if I can help it," Hermione said. She slipped the paper into her bag, gathered her things, and stood up. "I need to be getting going."

"No, Hermione, don't," Ginny said.

"It's alright, Hermione," Harry said, and he shot his fiancee a look. "We don't have to talk about this."

Hermione shook her head. "I need to do some research. I'll see you all tomorrow."

She hurried through the floo before anyone could protest further.

Her own flat was quiet. Crookshanks was sitting in his favorite chair in the living room, watching out the second-story window. After she had graduated from Hogwarts she and Ron had moved in together with Harry. And then they moved into separate rooms. And then they both had moved out shortly before Ginny moved in, Ron to a muggle high rise, Hermione to this old Victorian building.

She had not eaten much dinner at Harry's, but she wasn't hungry anymore. Instead she pulled out the paper again. The way that she had always worked and had always won was through research. It was how she operated in Hogwarts, it was her contribution to winning the war, and it was her job now at Magical Law. And if she didn't know what to do now, it was because she did not have enough research.

She sat down at her kitchen table and gathered her things- a cup of tea, a muggle composition notebook, a pen, and her most comfortable socks. She cast a duplicator spell on the article so she could keep one clean copy for later. She started taking notes- what she knew, where the holes in knowledge were, who might have more information, where else could she look, what were the right questions to ask. The notes were growing longer and longer, and the article becoming more annotated when there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" she asked, even though she had a feeling.

"Can I come in?" Ron answered. Hermione flicked her wand at the door. The door unlocked and opened.

Ron was in her kitchen in a moment. "Can I grab a cuppa?"

"Help yourself," Hermione said, her eyes still on the article. She made little progress as Ron completed his ritual, then slid into the seat next to her.

"Here," he said, and slid her a fresh cup. "I figured yours would have gotten cold by now."

"I could have warmed it," she protested. He didn't mention that she hated the taste of tea that had a warming spell. They both knew that she did. She wrapped her fingers around the cup, feeling the warmth sink into her bones. Ron took a long, quiet series of sips, then placed his cup down.

"If it's any consolation," Ron finally said, "I think Ginny just meant that we need a plan. A contingency plan."

"Even though she made no secret about how she wished we could be sisters?" Hermione said, glancing at her socks. It would have been so much easier if she and Ron could have worked out. Everyone always said to fall in love with your best friend. Well, she had, and they tried for a year to make it work. But it hadn't, and she hated the feeling of failure.

"That was a long time ago that she said it," Ron said. He grasped her hand and squeezed. "She's still excited to be your sister. After all, she is marrying your brother."

Hermione gave a wan smile. "Ron, this law is terrible. Whoever crafted it- it's bad. Even with the best intentions."

"So what do we do now?"

"You're not tired of fighting like Harry is?"

Ron shook his head. "I went into the wrong field to be tired of fighting. He'll come around. What do we do?"

"I guess," Hermione said, "for now, we try to figure out how and why. And who. And then maybe we can figure out how to stop it."

"I'll keep my ear to the ground," Ron said, and he wrapped Hermione up in his arms. She let herself stay there for a moment. She wished she felt a quickening of her heart, or butterflies. But it was like how she felt when hugging Harry- just deep friendship.

Ron did not stay long, and he made Hermione promise she would sleep at some point. She had exhausted her available information by the time he left anyway. She joined Crookshanks by the window. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the street where she knew a rabbit family lived underneath the hedge.

"One day, Crooks," she said, petting him. "One day you'll get them."

He purred in response.

Hermione had wanted to be alone, but she had to admit her flat could be lonely. She tried her best. It had tasteful artwork hung on the walls and bookcases and flowers in a vase on the coffee table. The vase was unbreakable and was charmed to stay on the coffee table, after Crookshanks had knocked it over it so many times. But it was still a bit utilitarian, a bit cold. Hermione had thought a few times about hiring someone to decorate, but it was such an unnecessary expense. She had also thought about asking Ginny, who had an eye for design when Hermione could not, but pride stopped her.

She should make amends with Ginny, she decided as she walked towards her shower. It wasn't Ginny's fault that her relationship with Ron had ended, and it was well past the time that she was allowed to behave strangely about it. Ginny was just behaving like any close friend would. She couldn't keep holding onto this feeling of failure.

Hermione turned the water as hot as she could stand and scrubbed as hard as she could, until she was dizzy and pink. And then she toweled off and threw on pajamas. She should go to bed, but instead poured herself a glass of wine and sat back next to Crookshanks by the window. She'd go straight to bed after finishing. It was not a guaranteed way of sleeping, but her track record for this technique was fifty fifty. Better than anything else she'd tried.

She should really be better about taking care of herself. Take Ginny up on her offer to exercise, try the meditation that she kept reading about, maybe even get a massage. Meet a man, have a fling. That could be her next project. After she had ensured that the law would be repealed, she would focus on herself.

_a/n So, I guess I have two WIPs now. This story is about halfway written, and I worked on it whenever I felt like my eyes were going to bleed from working on grad school applications. I'm very excited to work with a trope that I've loved as a reader, and I hope you enjoy it as well. _


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Letter

The _Prophet _was full of articles about the Marriage Law. Hermione flicked through the paper while waiting in line for coffee at the small shop in Diagon. There was a spike in the sale of love potions- that was no surprise, anyone could have predicted that. There were rumors of a spate of kidnappings to provide half-blood brides to pureblood heirs. No actual names of any kidnapped women were mentioned, making the claim highly dubious. Polling for the law was fifty-two percent positive, forty-one percent negative, with seven percent undecided- who were these undecided idiots? And a rash of engagement announcements to beat the deadline. It was coming in this week, and no amount of research, petitioning, and protesting had done a single damn thing. And her proposal for alternate means of encouraging reproduction was still waiting on a hearing. She was fuming by the time she got to the counter and ordered her Monday indulgence of a vanilla latte.

"Six sickles, miss," the clerk said, and Hermione started to rummage through her bag.

"I'll take care of the lady's coffee," a voice behind her said, and Hermione stilled. She knew that voice, even though she hadn't heard it in years. Even though it was now the voice of a grown man rather than a boy.

Hermione slowly turned to the man behind her. "Hello Draco."

"And anything for you sir?" the clerk asked Malfoy.

"The same," Malfoy said and slid a galleon over the counter. He smiled at Hermione. "You're looking well, Hermione."

He was too, as much as she did not like to admit it. He wore a soft grey jumper that brought out the silver in his eyes, and he was both taller and stronger looking than the last time Hermione saw him. But more so than that he looked healthier, like he was sleeping and eating regularly. That was simply as far as she would allow her thoughts to go in regards to Malfoy's appearance.

The lattes came up and he handed hers over. "Thank you," Hermione said, and took a sip of the coffee. "You didn't have to do this," she said. "I do have the money to buy my own coffee."

Malfoy shrugged and gave half a smile to her. "Consider it as much a peace offering as six sickles can buy."

"Not a marriage proposal?" Hermione asked pointedly. Malfoy gave a harsh laugh.

"No, not a marriage proposal." He shook his head. "My father is currently at Wizegmont, using a fabricated family tree to try to claim that I am a half-blood and therefore am exempt from the law." He laughed, a half cynical sound. "It won't work and everyone knows it but him."

"You don't sound like you're against the law," Hermione said, and immediately regretted her words. "I'm sorry," she said, "that was tactless of me."

"This isn't exactly a Monday morning conversation," Malfoy said and shook his head. "Suffice it to say that I am upset for other people's sake."

"Wouldn't you say you deserve a chance to marry for love too?" Hermione pressed.

"If anyone deserves happiness, I'm far down in the queue," Malfoy said, and studied the gold watch at his wrist. "I apologize, I must be off. I'll see you around, Hermione." He walked out of the coffee shop towards the Leaky. Hermione sipped a bit more out of her latte so it wouldn't be too full, then apparated away to the Ministry. She had much work to do.

Hermione was able to lose herself in work until it was time for lunch. She went down to the cafeteria to meet up with Ron. She was puzzling over the meeting with Malfoy that morning. Had it been a coincidence, or did he mean to see her? And what did he mean by a peace offering? He had sent a written apology years ago after his trial. But she had thought that was a formality, and had avoided him the few times she saw him in public. And where was he going off to? He didn't work at the Ministry, but being awake at a coffee shop on a Monday morning was not a habit of rich layabouts.

Ron was already at the table, working through his sandwich.

"You look preoccupied," he said. "Marriage law again?"

"Oh- yes," she said, not ready to share what had happened. It wasn't really even anything- just out of her expectations. She started to eat in silence.

"You know they'll be announcing matches at the end of this week," Ron said after a few minutes. He was watching her carefully like he expected her rage.

Hermione traced the spoon that had come with her soup. She knew what Ron was about to ask her, and they might as well get it over with. "Ronald-" Hermione said.

"We should at least talk about it, Hermione."

Hermione couldn't fault him with that. He was right. "Okay," she said softly. "Let's talk."

Ron's rigid posture relaxed just a little bit. "I know we ended it because we're better as friends," Ron said. "But this law means you could be paired with anyone. Don't you think it's better to be married to someone who cares about you than someone who wants to hurt you?"

"This law is wrong, Ron," Hermione said. She was tired of this conversation. This wasn't the first time Ron had brought up the topic, but never so bluntly. "I'm not going to do anything with this law without a fight."

"I'm not arguing that the law's not wrong," Ron said. His voice was patient and soothing. He was speaking to her like he used to in school when she was freaking out over an exam, or later when they dated when she would explode with frustration about work. "Of course it's bloody wrong. I don't expect you not to fight it. I'm still fighting it. But there's less than a week left before you're bound to whoever they match you with."

The matter of fact way he was speaking was galling. It was like he had already surrendered.

"You just don't want to have to do the work of wooing a woman," Hermione shot back. Even as she said it she realized that it was a low blow. Ron's face flashed with hurt and annoyance, and then he shook his head.

"If you won't protect yourself by marrying me, then I hope you bloody well choose someone else," he said and stood. He stormed out of the cafeteria. Hermione watched him go, frustrated with him but mostly with herself. Ron was being a good friend. He was trying to protect her. Why did she have to be such a bitch to him?

Romilda Vane two tables over was watching Ron. She then turned towards Hermione and gave a giant wink. Hermione sourly vanished her soup. She was no longer in the mood for lunch.

Ron made a fair point, as angry as Hermione was to acknowledge it. She should, practically speaking, have a backup plan. But Hermione had this searing feeling that if she were to accept a backup plan, it would dilute the power of what she was going to attempt. The only way she could be successful was to continue her single-minded focus. Making a match was tantamount to giving up. She had pulled out so many impossible victories in her twenty-four years of life. What was one more?

Ron would not understand. Ron would worry about her. But Ron needed to worry first about himself- Romilda Vane was after him, it would seem, and she needed to warn him about her. He couldn't hold out for her. Somehow she had to make him accept that. And if she was unsuccessful, the Ministry would hopefully not pair her with anyone too vile.

Hopefully.

Hermione has not slept properly for days. Just an hour here, three hours there. If she did not make progress soon then the law might actually move into effect, in which case her gamble of not choosing a partner would cost her. If only her proposal would be approved for a hearing. Lucius Malfoy's proposal that his son was a half-blood had been heard. It had been rejected- the gossip swiftly and gleefully ringing down the halls of the Ministry. But if Lucius Malfoy's ridiculous business deserved a hearing then surely her well-researched work did as well.

She was at work when she received an answer. An official ministry owl landed on her desk and hooted at her late Friday morning, interrupting her bleary research into old bylaws. Her heart was in her throat. This was it. The answer she had been waiting for. She opened the envelope with trembling fingers.

_Dear Miss Granger, _

_It has come to our attention that you have yet to register an approved marriage with a pureblood. Therefore, you have been assigned a match to an unattached male pureblood between the ages of 20 and 45. Your future husband is: _

Draco Malfoy

_A meeting has been arranged between the two of you for next Tuesday at 2:30pm. As a ministry employee, you have been excused from any duties. _

_We hope this letter finds you well. _

_Sincerely,_

_Sharon Misti _

_Assistant Undersecretary of Marriage _

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Hermione was certain that it was the sleep deprivation that had caused her to imagine such an absurd letter. She should go off in search of Harry or Ron to read her letter. They'd tell her the contents. But other owls were flying through the office. People were reacting with sighs or hoots or cheers. She rubbed her eyes and reread the letter once, then twice. The words were the same.

She had known she was taking a risk with not choosing a pairing. But she had thought that if a decision was made for her, then history and personality would be taken into account. How could she possibly marry Malfoy. Hermione hurriedly stood up from her desk and slipped on her coat. She had some thinking to do, and she wasn't going to be able to do it at her desk.

She grabbed her bag at the last minute. It was just after four, and she didn't imagine she would be able to return to her work. Instead she slipped out into the atrium, keeping her head down so that no one would greet her. Everyone was so wrapped up in their own conversations she found it easy to sneak out.

She apparated out as soon as she was past security and the anti-apparation wards. She emerged near Round Pound at Kensington Garden and set out for a walk, hoping to perhaps find a nearby tea vendor.

Draco Malfoy. It seemed too great a coincidence that she should run into him earlier this week and now she would be married to him. But the magical community was not large, and she ran into people all of the time. He could have simply seen her and tried to smooth things over in the event they did get matched. But how could things between them ever be a partnership? How could she enter into an alliance with Draco Malfoy? He might have apologized, but that did not take away the harm of what he had done. She didn't know if anything could.

There was a tea truck on a nearby road and Hermione hurried over to it. She ordered a tea with sugar and paid for her own, watching carefully for any hint of ice blond hair. The heat of the first sip washed over her and it momentarily made everything feel relief in her body. Maybe this would be her life now. She would only find pleasure in small moments because her life would be intolerable. She had fought so long and so hard to build a better, more equal society. And that society had turned around and spat in her face.

Hermione resumed her walking, weaving now through the streets of London. She would have to be married to him. She had to live with him- oh gods. She would not return to the manor. No. She would insist on that. If he wanted to live with her he could bloody well sleep on the sofa in her flat, because she would never step foot there again. And when he insisted she would make it unpleasant. She could cause an uproar. She could go to the papers. His position was tenuous enough, and he would have to blink. Yes. If she was going to succeed in this marriage she would need a war chest. She'd have to tell Harry and Ron- who else would be with her?

Ron. She hadn't even asked him yet if he had gotten a letter. She sighed. She had promised to meet Harry, Ron, and Ginny for dinner at Grimmauld Place tonight. All she wanted to do was be alone and plan. But it had been too long since she had seen them, and besides, they deserved to hear it from her.

She pushed aside her guilt. She could deal with that later. She chuckled darkly at the thought of adding "feel guilt" to her mental to-do list. Perhaps Luna was correct. Perhaps she should see a mind healer. Yet another thing to take care of later. Along with finally figuring out how to eat as an adult without elves or parents, getting regular exercise, repealing the law, finally decorating her flat-

Why couldn't she have ended up with someone like Ernie Macmillan? Or even Zacharias Smith? The sun was starting to set and the lamps were being lit. It was a magical moment, when life slowed down and she could properly appreciate how lovely it was for just a bit. But only for a bit. It was only ever a respite for a bit. A respite from her future where she would be Draco Malfoy's wife.

As soon as it was dark enough she stepped behind a tree and apparated to the step of Grimmauld Place. In the past few years Grimmauld Place had become a much lighter, brighter home. Some of that was Kreacher's improved motivation, some Ginny's influence. Hermione reminded herself that she was going to ask Ginny to help decorate her flat. She added that once again to her mental list. Perhaps she ought to start writing all of this down.

She let herself into the house and walked directly down to the kitchen. Kreacher was bustling around, pulling a covered dish out of the wood-burning stove.

"Shepherd's pie again?" Hermione asked. Perhaps her voice was a bit sharp. She tried to soften it. "It smells quite good."

"Roast chicken today, Miss," Kreacher said.

"We're on a moratorium of shepherds pie," Ginny said, stepping out of the pantry. She was carrying a bottle of wine and four wine glasses were hovering behind her. "How are you doing?"

Hermione opened her mouth to tell Ginny instinctively that she was fine, that she would be fine, but the words didn't come out. Ginny put down the bottle and walked towards Hermione.

"What happened? What's wrong?"

"It seems like they're already assigning marriages," Hermione said after several large gasps of air. Ginny grasped her hand.

"Who did you get, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head. If she said it then it was real in a way she could not take back. She produced the letter from her bag. Ginny grabbed it and glanced over it, then gasped.

"No." Ginny's face was open with shock. "You have to marry Malfoy?"

"There has to be a way to appeal this. Ron was right. I should have made a plan."

Ginny wrapped Hermione in an enormous hug, and Hermione grabbed Ginny back.

"I was an idiot," Hermione said, her voice thick.

"You were idealistic," Ginny argued. "Come on."

Ginny grabbed a corkscrew and started to open the bottle of wine. She poured Hermione an enormous pour, and Hermione drank it greedily.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked after she felt like she could speak. Ginny topped her glass back up.

"He and Ron should be finishing up with their last-minute intramural Quidditch league match any moment."

"Miss will be marrying the Malfoy boy?" Kreacher said happily, as the floo fired up and Ron stepped out.

"Merlin no!" Ron said his face dropping. Hermione shook her head. Ron immediately crossed over to her and grasped her into a large hug.

"What are we going to do?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'll just have to appeal," Hermione said. "Surely no one would think that it is a good idea."

The floo fired once again and Harry stepped out. "Mm, it smells delicious in here. Hey, Hermione. How- are you okay?"

"The Miss is getting married to young Master Malfoy!" Kreacher proclaimed. Harry stared. It seemed that he did not believe Kreacher, because he glanced over at Hermione. She shook her head, and suddenly she had burst into tears.

She was escorted by Ginny over to the table, where she sat, sobbing. And her friends let her. It was a nice thing about them. They had known her long enough to know that she didn't want to be comforted. Kreacher was dismissed, and they waited until her sobs had slowed down.

"We're going to figure this out, Hermione," Ron finally said, "but first, we are going to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"When was the last time you ate a proper meal?" Ginny asked steadily. Hermione could not quite remember.

"You'll feel better after eating," Ginny said. "You can't be as effective when you're hungry."'

"Appealing to rationality is an unfair tactic," Hermione sniffed. Harry grasped her hand.

"Ginny's full of unfair tactics. Come on."

She allowed her plate to be filled with roast chicken and roast potatoes and a salad and then she ate. She intended to only have enough so that she could say she had eaten and that they would work on dissecting what to do next. But after the first bite she found she was very hungry. And she devoured everything on her plate, then took seconds. She had eaten most of her second helping before she wanted to talk.

"There must be an appeal process." She looked up at everyone. "Right?"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. "Rumor is that they are not allowing appeals."

"I'll make an appointment," Harry promised. "We will appeal for you."

"I shouldn't be able to appeal when everyone else can." Hermione said. She hadn't thought they would not allow appeals.

"Hermione," Ginny said softly, "if anyone has earned the right to appeal it's you."

"But that's not fair!" Hermione said eagerly. "What about everyone else who is assigned a marriage? What about them?"

Ron stabbed his chicken. "Hermione, when you were researching how to repeal the law, most people were coupling up. We can try to appeal it, but I wouldn't be surprised if you got Draco precisely because the pool of available candidates is so small."

"Who were you assigned?"

"I wasn't," said Ron. "I'm marrying Sally Roper."

"Who?" The name was familiar in the way that a song might be that she had heard only once.

"She was a Hufflepuff in our year. We play Quidditch together. She's currently training to be a Healer."

"Do you- like her?"

Ron shrugged. "She's kind. We get along. It could be much worse. She doesn't really have time for a relationship with her Healing training, and you know I'm almost never home. It will be convenient. The ceremony is happening in three weeks. I'd like for you to stand for me."

"Of course," Hermione said. She felt strange not extending the same offer to Ron. But neither did she want to treat any of this like it was normal or expected, like it was worth celebrating.

"When did you make the decision?" she said instead.

"Wednesday," Ron said, and took an enormous bite off a chicken leg. Why hadn't Ron told her at Wednesday dinner? Oh. She had missed it in a blur of filings. She hadn't even dashed off a note to apologize.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I've been a terrible friend."

"You've been a bit busy," said Ron with a wry smile.

"I just- I don't know what to do."

"What we are going to do," Ginny said, "is not talk about this tonight."

"It's easy for you to say. You just move up your wedding date," Hermione snapped.

"That's not what she meant, Hermione," Harry said, and his voice was a warning. Hermione almost never heard Harry like that.

"Hermione even if we spend the entire time talking about it, we can't change anything now," Ginny said patiently. "This is your NEWTS all over again."

"Then what are we going to talk about?" Hermione complained. Ginny was right, and she hated that.

"I was listening to the radio today," Ginny said. "It was the muggle radio. They were discussing some new dance thing. Swan something."

"Swan Lake," Harry said. "It's a ballet. They dance on their toes."

"What if we went? I'd like to see. The music they played was quite pretty."

"A day out in the muggle world?" Ron said. "I'd be in."

"I used to dance in primary school," Hermione said slowly. She had never been a great dancer but she had enjoyed practicing the steps over and over, getting a little closer every time. Her dance stopped when she went to Hogwarts, and she didn't realize how much she had missed it. "My mum always loved the ballet. It's been years since I went and saw one."

"I could buy us tickets," Harry volunteered. "We could have a nice night out."

Ron was soon suggesting restaurants that they could eat at, and Ginny asked Hermione about shopping. Hermione asked Ginny, finally, if she wouldn't mind helping decorate the flat. Ginny was happy to, which was one less thing on the mental list. Kreacher brought out a lemon loaf and tea after he cleared away the dinner. She left Grimmauld late that evening a little tipsy and quite tired.

Appeal the marriage. Feed Crookshanks- that one was easy. If only everything else could be. She had to do some research on her new- she could not call him her finance. She had to learn more about Draco Malfoy.

_a/n So I meant to get this one out quickly, and then- 2020 happened. I've learned my lesson about promising quick turnarounds, but I hope to get this next chapter out sooner than this one. In the meantime, please stay safe and make sure to wear a mask. _


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: The Meeting

Hermione was almost but not quite late to the meeting with Malfoy at two-twenty on Tuesday. She had arrived early in the morning to settle into work so that she could leave straight after. It didn't matter much. She hadn't been sleeping well and her attention today on her work had been ferocious. She was sure she looked a fright, and part of that was she hadn't taken care with her appearance when she apparated out the door at six that morning. Her curls were exceptionally unruly today and her robes were rumpled. It was not the controlled impression she had planned on giving off.

The ministry summons had been for her and Draco. There was nothing about a solicitor. Hermione could not fault Draco for bringing one. If she had a solicitor she'd certainly bring hers. He likely had one on retainer, while she'd be lucky to find someone she could afford.

"Miss Granger," Malfoy's solicitor greeted her when she entered the room. She was a short and plump woman with a kind face who was dressed in cerulean robes. Hermione took stock of her and immediately was wary. Sexism was not eradicated in the wizarding world, and for her to feel free enough to dress in whimsical colors, rather than the sharp, hard look Hermione was accustomed to seeing with solicitors, likely meant that she was very good. "I'm Mrs. Merits. Pleasure to meet you."

"Hello Hermione," Malfoy said softly. That too was unnerving. Hermione just nodded in response. She was not certain what to do with a polite Malfoy, but perhaps she ought to start considering the option. After all, if would be better if they could be civil, with getting married and all.

Getting married. To Malfoy. Hermione tamped down a hysterical giggle that threatened to rise out of her throat. She slid down into her seat and glanced around. The door closed and an old wizard, so pale he was almost translucent, cleared his throat.

"Welcome, Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger, to this mediation session. The purpose of this session is to come to a marriage contract that will be agreeable to the two of you." The wizard beamed, clearly under the impression that this was a possibility. "To begin, we will review the standard marriage contract. You may mutually add to this, but you may not remove points. Shall we commence?"

Hermione was mute. Draco's solicitor nodded along. The wizard opened a scroll and began to read out loud the contents.

"Point the first, the marriage will be consummated within twenty-four hours of the marriage ceremony."

Consummation. They began with the exact thing that Hermione was avoiding thinking of. She had never been fond of sex, and now she would have to- couple- with Malfoy.

"Point the second, sexual intercourse for the purpose of bearing a child must be carried out during the witch's window of fertility once a month until pregnancy is detected. In case of a miscarriage, it must resume within two months, in case of a successful pregnancy, it must resume within six months."

She would be required to sleep with him multiple times. This was not precisely surprising news, but Hermione had been avoiding thinking about the event.

"Point the third," the wizard began, when the door opened and three sleek figures glided in.

"Mother. Father," Malfoy said, and he did not seem pleased to see them. "What are you doing here?"

Narcissa Malfoy was dressed like a very stylish cartoon villain, with a sleek dragonhide handbag, a pencil skirt, and gloves. Hermione half expected her to produce a cigarette holder at any time. "Why darling," Narcissa purred, "we simply are here to support you."

"Indeed," Lucius said, and his eyes fell on Hermione. His lips curled, but he said nothing else. Hermione stared back at him. She hoped that she looked resolute and disdainful instead of what she did feel, which was vaguely terrified.

"Mr. Shock," Mrs. Merits said, and her voice had lost some of its warmth. "What an unexpected surprise."

The third figure must have been another solicitor. This one was a middle-aged man in expensive robes, who had a shark-like air to him. Hermine distrusted him immediately.

"Yes, well," the elderly wizard said, flustered for a moment before resuming his place. "Please sit so we might continue!"

There was a flutter of movement.

"Point the third, the couple will be expected to produce four children- two to replace themselves, and two to repopulate the wizarding world."

Hermione felt faintly sick. Four? She was not even certain that she wanted children at all, and now she would be expected to be the mother to a brood. With the average conception taking up to six months- Hermione felt sick at all the times they would be expected to- couple. Across the table Malfoy looked calm. This was what he was bred for, of course. To carry on the family name. And just as well for him- he wasn't going to be the one going through the pregnancies and giving birth and- oh God. Did she have to breastfeed? She tamped down another terrified laugh.

"Oh Lucius," Narcissa fluttered, and grasped his hand. "We'll have such grandchildren to spoil."

"Of course, my pearl," Lucius said, his gaze still fixed on Hermione.

"Point the forth, there will a fidelity spell placed upon the witch, to ensure the offsprings are of-"

"Excuse me?" Hermione demanded. Lucius' eyes behind her were glittering.

"To ensure the offsprings are of the Father's loins," the wizard continued.

"So I'm to be magically manipulated so that I must remain faithful but Malfoy can sleep with whoever he wants?" Hermione burst out. "That's absurd."

"Be grateful, girl," barked Lucius. "You are getting better than you would with a traditional Malfoy marriage contract."

"Well, I would never agree to one," Hermione snapped at him, then turned back to the wizard. "I will not agree to this!"

"Foolish girl," Lucius sneered. "You cannot accept it, can you? You may have won the war, but in life you will never defeat us. Our ways will flourish for generations and you-"

"Father," Malfoy said, and his calm tones carried. "You will leave. Mother, you as well."

Narcissa gasped. "Draco darling, what?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Mrs. Merits said, "my client has requested that we continue alone. As you are aware, magical law demands that you leave."

The air was indeed feeling thicker. With one final glare Lucius strode out, followed by Narcissa and the shark-like solicitor. As the door closed Hermione felt as though she could breathe freely again.

"Is there no way to remove the necessity for a fidelity spell?" Malfoy asked the wizard. He paused, seeming surprised to be interrupted. Apparently the wizard was more comfortable being interrupted by men, and so he answered Malfoy's question.

"No, for it has been deemed a necessity by the Ministry."

"Then we shall have to add a fidelity spell to me as well," Malfoy said blandly. "Will you agree to enforced mutual fidelity?"

Hermione furrowed her brow and cocked her head. She looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since they entered the room together.

He looked- well. His features were aristocratic, he was slim but strong, his hair a little less shockingly white. She hadn't even noticed that unlike his father he was not wearing black. Or robes. He was wearing a grey suit, with a dark blue patterned shirt. The collar was open. He had looked well at the coffee shop too. Hermione felt warm realizing she was lingering attention on him.

Either he had changed as a person, Hermione thought, or he desperately wanted her to think that he had.

"Yes, I will," she said. It would likely do no harm, and might even help her in some future situation.

"Well then," the wizard said, "we have our first added provision!" Draco's lawyer was hurridly scribbling on some parchment.

They continued on with the contract, adding what they could. They could not use contraceptive potions or charms. They must live at the same resident, and Malfoy quickly added a provision that Hermione would get approval of wherever they did live. The law did not allow for divorce, but Hermione insisted that should the law be repealed they would be able to file for divorce. Malfoy insisted that an agreement for money be reached, despite Hermione's hot words that she did not want his money. She thought it might be to protect him, but he said that in the event of a divorce (the wizard reminded them that they would not be able to file for divorce, which Malfoy ignored) that Hermione would be granted a sum of five hundred thousand galleons.

"Malfoy, that's-" It was almost 2 and a half million pounds. "Excessive."

Malfoy almost smirked, which was a startling thing to see. It was like seeing the past him for a brief moment.

"I've been accused of being such before," he said, and flatly refused to reduce the sum.

The meeting went on for over an hour. Finally, they reached the end.

"Point the eighteenth, no parent may use grievous body harm on each other, or on the child."

Hermione snorted. What a thing to make into a law. Honestly, they were savages, all of them. As though she would let her misery affect a child.

Malfoy leaned forward. "Is it possible to extend that?"

"How so?" Mrs. Milton asked.

"I want to ensure that no family member is able to harm, physically or psychologically, the children or my wife." His gaze would meet hers, if she could bring herself to look at him. What sort of monsters were the Malfoys?

"That's- ah- not possible to write into this contract," the wizard wheezed.

"Right," Malfoy said, and leaned back. "Of course not."

Mrs. Milton was writing once again. "Your marriage contract is between the two of you. I could draw up a magically binding document for your parents, however."

Malfoy nodded. "Do so. We can discuss persuasion techniques later."

"Is there anything else?" Hermione asked. She was itching to leave, to draw a bath and open a bottle of wine and forget as best she could about today.

"No, no. We'll send you the revised copy of the contract in two days, and any further revisions are due a week from today. Your ceremony is scheduled for next Friday. Will you be marrying in the ministry?"

Hermione had not thought of the marriage. She wondered what would happen if she demanded a muggle ceremony.

"If that is alright with Hermione, we will be," Malfoy said after a long pause. Hermione nodded stiffly.

"Fine," Hermione said. She had nothing more to say, and so she stood and started to gather all of her things. Malfoy stood when she did, and crossed the room to the door. He opened it for her.

"Goodbye, Hermione," he said, and she met his eyes this time. They were calm and controlled.

"Goodbye, Draco," she said, and hurried out of the room.

She had planned to escape to her flat. But for what? She could not be alone right now or she might explode. Instead she turned back to the work that was already finished, cross-checking some research. The room was empty by the time she came up from her work and looked around.

Back in her flat Hermione exhaled. She grabbed a bottle of red off of the kitchen countertop, and started the water of her bath with a wave of her wand. There was a bath potion that turned the bubbles into rose-colored baubles that smelled of jasmine on the edge of the tub, and so Hermione added that. She piled her hair in a bun on the top of her head, and slicked some oil over the ends. She was trying to take care of herself now, because if she had to hear Luna dreamily allude to how stressed she was she might scream. She put on a muggle face mask of clay that her mum had gifted her for Christmas. It was a shame her parents would not be there to see her married. But she did not know how to explain such a thing to them, and they would only worry. She slipped into the hot water, and tried to relax into the heat.

It felt frivilous to relax like such. It felt frivolous to be so stressed out, even. She had survived a war. She had been a war criminal on the run. To worry about her fundamental human rights-

Perhaps it was not frivolous.

But Malfoy. Hermione took a deep drink of wine and turned her thoughts back to him. He seemed different. More modest, but also more confident than before. He had stood up to his parents. He had fought for her to be treated well and protected in the contract. He seemed, if not interested in her as a person, at least interested in her being respected as his wife. But was it genuine? And how could she handle being around his parents? It seemed unlikely that she would never see them again.

She could not be sure. Her conception of him in the past was a dark one, and she didn't know if she could just throw off that idea. But perhaps he had changed. She could ask around. And if it was a ploy, then what was the payoff?

She needed to stop thinking. Groping for her wand, she pointed it at the small radio in the bathroom. The WWN turned on.

"_With reports of lust potions use spiking coming out from around Great Britain. Today, George Weasley of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes says that they will no longer be selling love potions, stating that with the current law mandating partners it would be cruel to continue to carry them. Not all potioneers agree. Skinner, Roe, and Rust, a small potions firm, is proudly advertising that they sell love potions. A spokesperson says-"_

Hermione flicked her wand once more, and the newest song from Eye of Newt was playing from WMO.

Relax. Right.

By the time she got out of the tub she had two owls waiting for her. The first was from Harry. Apparently there were no appeals to be had.

The second was from Malfoy. It was a copy of the contract and a letter.

_Hermione,_

_I do wish to tell you that I am truly sorry you had the rotten luck to be paired with me. If there's any way I can make this easier for you please know that I wish to help._

_If you wish to talk more before next Friday, please know I am available for you._

_DM_

She did not want to meet Draco. Instead she had a theory to test. She didn't like being forced into this marriage. But if she was to be forced it was better to be underestimated. She called up a Muggle doctor. She had heard things about more long term birth control methods, and she wanted to be ready for battle.

_a/n Thank you so much for reading, and make sure to wear a mask out there! _


End file.
